


Lilac Wine

by wearethewitches



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Female Harry Potter, Gen, Harry Potter Has PTSD, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Multiple, Pre-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Protective Tony Stark, Runaway Harry, Stan Lee Cameo, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29178549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: When Hari Potter is in a car crash during a holiday across the pond, she quickly realises that to escape the forces of Lord Voldemort, she must go underground until Professor Dumbledore can track her down himself.And with current American news using the infamous Scarlet Witch as a talking point...Hari decides that the Avengers just might be exactly what she needs.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Vision
Comments: 14
Kudos: 140





	Lilac Wine

In the summer preceding Hari Potter’s sixth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, it was to Hari’s surprise that she was allowed to go abroad on holiday with her relatives to America. Having recently received a promotion, Uncle Vernon had been promptly given a three week, all-inclusive paid trip to Cape May Point, New Jersey, with several side-trips into Philadelphia and New York City proper.

Given five aeroplane tickets for the express use of his immediate family, it had been a race to get Hari’s passport bought and verified, which would have been quite the hassle in itself had Aunt Petunia not suddenly retrieved Hari’s birth certificate from absolutely nowhere, along with a staggeringly official-looking student identification card. Hari barely had time to send a single letter out before Dumbledore sent his own correspondence, telling her things were handled and to enjoy her holiday. It was like they weren’t at war. Like Hari could just go on holiday and not have to worry about anything at all.

Of course, with five tickets, Vernon also saw fit to invite his sister, Marge. In another world, where Aunt Marge had not been obliviated into forgetting the unfortunate incident that was Hari blowing her up like a balloon, Marge may have not been so happy about travelling with Hari. Similarly, with the clear lack of obliviate on her part, Hari had promised herself to stay as far away from Marge as she could.

‘If anything happens— _anything, girl_ —it’s on your head! I won’t hesitate to let the American police have at you!’ Vernon hissed at her prior to their flight overseas. Hari had agreed in a disgruntled manner, but what little vindication she got from the Ministry of Magic accepting the return of Voldemort tided her over until their arrival in the luscious first-class coach of the American Airline plane.

Dudley didn’t hesitate to begin pigging out on any and all snacks he had bought in the duty-free, leaving Hari—his neighbour, a surprising arrangement to Hari until Marge began to bellow at Dudley to share his grub from behind them, revealing the state of things—to curl up by the window, watching the _Star Wars_ trilogy on the onboard movie player with her hostess-provided wireless earphones.

‘The newest upgrade for first class passengers, courtesy of _Stark Industries,’_ said the hostess, a blonde woman named Mandy. She certainly seemed to appreciate Hari’s polite _thank-you_ in comparison to Dudley’s ogling of her tailored uniform.

‘She was pretty,’ Dudley mumbled after she walked away, face red. Hari rolled her eyes.

‘Of course she was. I think it’s a rule for air hostesses.’

Dudley sniggered and for once, Hari realised they were getting on. Later, when Hari was fed a rather strange-tasting orange jelly and ice-cream for their on-flight dessert, she gave it to Dudley. The peace-offering got her Dudley’s pack of peanuts in return, which Hari counted as a success as she began her third movie of the evening, wanting to know if Luke and Leia would get together.

Three hours later, feeling absolutely betrayed by George Lucas— _twins? TWINS?_ —Hari and the Dursley’s arrived in New Jersey, taking their complimentary taxi to their accommodation on the beachfront. It surprised Hari how large everything was, eyes caught on every neon sign and monster-truck they passed.

‘Bah,’ her uncle scoffed, ‘Americans.’

‘They’ve got cool cars,’ argued Dudley, likewise watching the world go by. Hari really did get her hopes up, then, that their holiday would be at least a break from reality, if nothing else.

Alas, the Potter Luck quickly made its debut.

The taxi swerved on the road, Marge overbalancing in her seat and pushing Uncle Vernon sideways into Aunt Petunia. In the back, Hari grabbed a hold of her seatbelt just in time before a great _JOLT_ sent them spinning sideways. Vision blurring and glasses going awry, Hari heard screams and the screech of tires, before out the corner of her eye she saw a truck rolling towards them at high speed.

Hari reacted.

Later, she wouldn’t know what she’d done. Shielded them, maybe. But whatever did happen when they were hit by the truck, they still went flying. Hari banged her head, causing the world to go dark and when she awoke what seemed to be moments later, Dudley was sagging from his seatbelt. Broken glass stuck to his clothes and scratched at his face, causing bright red blood to well up on his peachy face, staining his hair pink.

‘Dud-’ Hari coughed, feeling something like _fire_ in her chest. ‘Dudley,’ she croaked. Her throat ached. The air was warm and gravity was wrong, pressure forming when she reached down to her seatbelt. It was only when she clicked it open and fell forwards onto the roof, that Hari realised they were upside down.

‘Dudley—Aunt Petunia?’ Hari crawled forwards, thick jeans she thanked Merlin weren’t ripped at the knees taking the brunt of the broken glass. Like Hari, her aunt and uncle hung from their seatbelts, but Marge wasn’t so lucky, having complained about having to wear hers only ten minutes prior. Her body was awkwardly shoved in the gap between the window and the driver’s seat ‘Uncle Vernon?’

Hari could hear sirens in the distance and the faint crackle of a fire. Nearby, something exploded and the pressure that rung through her ears woke her aunt and cousin up.

‘What- Vernon? Duddy?’ Petunia screeched, before Hari reached her. She shrieked again when her niece caught her shoulder.

‘We crashed,’ said Hari, attempting to get her aunt to see sense. ‘We need to get out of here. The firemen will come, soon.’

But Petunia kept screaming, completely frantic. Dudley fell to the roof beside Hari, grunting in pain. Legs awry, he shuffled around and nearly kicked Hari in the head.

‘Watch out!’ She slurred, throat still obscenely dry. It was only when she coughed again, eyes stinging, that Hari realise the taxi was filling with smoke. ‘Dudley, fire.’

‘Fire?’

‘Smoke,’ Hari pushed her old hoodie up over her nose, but it didn’t do much as she craned her neck out of the shattered window. Cars just like theirs were piled up and the few bystanders she could see were staying far back.

 _Cowards,_ she thought, before attempting to get the door. It stayed firmly shut.

Dudley coughed himself, saying something. It took a few times for Hari to hear what he was trying to say. ‘Climb out the window,’ he said, ‘Climb out.’

Hari weighed their circumstances. Smoke was filling up the car, Petunia was still screaming upside down and Marge and Uncle Vernon were firmly unconscious. She didn’t know about the driver, but what Hari did know—what Dudley was right to say—was that she was certainly skinny enough to climb out the broken window.

That all her magical possessions in the world, wand included, remained back in Privet Drive, England, did not escape her.

Nodding, Hari started crawling over the glass, cringing when her skin caught on the window. The grey asphalt was warm and just as littered with shards as the inside of the car.

 _I’ve dealt with worse,_ Hari thought, forcing herself to keep going. When her feet were the only things left to remove, she turned around, looking back inside. It was worse from a distance. From this angle, Hari could see a strange paleness to Uncle Vernon’s clammy face and how both Aunt Marge and the driver stared, dead-eyed. She recoiled.

 _‘…here…’_ she heard Dudley mutter, before something shiny was slung her way. Hari fumbled over what she recognised as Dudley’s phone, covered with a black, leather-bound case that had one of Uncle Vernon’s debit cards in the card-holder.

Hearing a crackling, Hari looked around frantically, seeing more smoke pouring out of the base of the car that now faced the sky. Her heart stuttered and Hari scrambled to duck her head into the window again.

‘Dudley! You’ve got to get out! The car’s on fire, you’ve got to get out!’ She shouted, craning her neck to look at her aunt, who had broken down into sobs at this point. Switching window, Hari attempted to undo her aunt’s seatbelt, but it was too far to unlock from her current position, especially with how her aunt hit and scratched her reaching arm. Reversing, Hari desperately tried to help Dudley again, but her cousin was trying to wake up his dad.

‘Dudley!’ She screamed, ‘Dudley, come on! Please!’

He ignored her. ‘Dad,’ he said, ‘Dad, wake up. Come on, you’ve got to help Mum-’

Hari felt someone at her back, an arm locking around her waist and lifting her free of the car. She screamed, trying to get out of their iron grip, but they were relentless, spinning her around so they could run away towards the crowd of people.

‘It’s too late!’ They—she—said to Hari, readjusting her grip on Hari’s skinny waist. Hari was hysterical. She couldn’t hear what they were saying or even knew what she was saying, other than her cousin’s name over and over. Her chance at escape only came with another concussive shockwave, her kidnapper falling at the blast and releasing Hari from her grasp.

Hari hit the ground hard, but that was the least of her worries. She turned around, looking for the taxi-car full of her relatives.

But all she saw was fire.

‘I’m sorry.’ The words reached her from a distant land. Where was the car? Hari looked and looked, but she couldn’t see it—only that burning ball of flame. Where was Dudley? Where was her aunt and her uncle?

A jacket was draped over her shoulders.

‘Come on kid, sit in my car until the ambulance arrives. They’ll get you sorted at a hospital,’ said the woman, tentatively picking her up again. Never had Hari felt more useless.

 _It’s happening again,_ she thought, mind spinning as she was half-dragged, half carried over to the open door of a car and awkwardly lugged into the back seat. _Sirius died like this,_ Hari thought hilariously, laughing in frantic, wheezing breaths. Her face was wet. _Now, my cousin and aunt and uncle are dead, too. And Marge. Bloody Marge is dead, too._ The past month felt like a slap to the face.

The woman—her saviour—knelt in front of her and held her hand loosely, two fingers pressed to her pulse. Her skin was brown, like Hermione’s and her hair was bright green, bleached at the ends. Hari somehow ended up focussing on her nose piercing, how the shiny silver ring hung and reflected the light around them. Hari didn’t hear a word she said, despite seeing her lips moving. She wondered why.

Soon, Hari was faced with the familiar sights of the paramedics, who snapped her out of her daze when they tended to the cuts on her arms and face with water and gauze, taping it on as she winced. Her chest ached and Hari fumbled to gesture to it. The paramedic paused.

‘She’s coming out of shock, now. Hi, I’m Harry—can you tell me your name and how old you are?’

‘Harry,’ Hari repeated, giggling maniacally. ‘I’m Hari too, Hari with an _‘I’._ ’ The giggles didn’t stop and the paramedic seemed grim despite the smile on his face.

‘Hello, other Hari. We’re going to take you to the emergency room. How old are you, Hari?’

‘Fifteen. Sixteen on July thirty-first,’ Hari said, feeling wobbly as the paramedic helped her to her feet, then had her lie down on a bright orange board. ‘My chest hurts.’

‘How does it hurt, Hari?’

‘Seatbelt,’ she said, lips cracking.

‘Alright Hari, we’ll get that checked out,’ other Harry told her, sounding firm. Hari nodded weakly, but then someone strapped a brace around her neck and Hari felt tears pool in her eyes from lying flat. ‘Hari, was your family in the car? We have people trying to get them out-’

‘They’re dead,’ Hari interrupted, watching the smoke-filled sky disappear in place of the inside of an ambulance. ‘My aunt and uncle and cousin and Marge and the taxi-driver…all dead…just like Sirius…’

‘Who’s Sirius, Hari?’ Harry asked, before inserting something cool into her arm, another paramedic wrapping something around her bicep that squeezed tight. ‘Was he there, too?’

‘No. He died in May. Everyone around me dies. It’s not fair,’ Hari felt her lip wobble, before her eyes really started blurring from the tears then. Her chest shuddered and it made the ache there even more painful. Her sobs became yelps and other Harry wasn’t any help—her opinion of him lowering even further when he tried to take Dudley’s phone from her.

‘No! No, you’re not taking it! It’s Dudley’s, you can’t take it!’ She cried, hysterical. He was her cousin and she hated him, but a part of her felt connected to him. Dudley was her cousin. Dudley was dead. They weren’t taking the last thing she had of him.

Things got even worse from there.

It took a whole day for them to come to the conclusion that Hari was fine, other than a few bruised ribs, some cracker bruises and cuts from the glass across her arms and face. Her ‘mental state’, as it were, wasn’t something they dealt with in A&E—or the Emergency Room, as they called it—but a social worker had already begun asking her more questions than Hari was willing to answer. They managed to track down Uncle Vernon’s Visa through the debit card Dudley had in his phone, both things of which they let Hari keep on her as ‘security blankets’.

But as Aunt Marge was also in the wreck, still as of yet unidentified, because Hari hadn’t the strength of will or the stomach to go down to the morgue, the social worker was left in a conundrum with whom to place her. Apparently, the British Embassy had been called. An ambassador was going to take her back to the UK and set her up in a hotel in London until things could be arranged, the social worker had explained.

Hari, though, recovered enough to think more clearly, was wary. She had no wand, no nothing to use to escape if this ‘ambassador’ turned out to be a spy. One of Voldemort’s people could have replaced him. Dumbledore’s letter was burned into her mind. _Enjoy your holiday._ There’d be no enjoying anything if Dumbledore’s people didn’t catch that her family had died.

The social worker didn’t stay all the time, thank Merlin. Hari was told to wait in a little-used meeting room and left alone with only a book of Sudoku to amuse herself, as they needed her bed. The blue ballpoint pen she’d been given didn’t even run.

 _I’ve got to get out of here,_ Hari thought, not trusting the oncoming ambassador in the slightest. Finding the only security camera in the room, Hari got up and edged around the table, pausing only when she saw that it was already unplugged. She shivered, then tried the door.

Outside was a busy hospital corridor and it was easy to join the crowd, discovering a set of doors leading outside. Hari aimed right for them, only to get stopped by a passing orderly, who grabbed her arm and pointed the way she came with a clipboard.

‘One-way system,’ they said, ‘Ambulance staff only. Exit’s that way.’

‘S-s-sorry, thank-you,’ Hari stuttered, backing off and going the way they pointed. She passed her meeting room again and squashed the urge to go back inside, to where it was quiet and she had space to think. Hari couldn’t do that. That was how she’d get caught.

After discovering a series of signage telling her where to go, Hari made it out of the ER, then discovered her next problem: where to go. She still had Dudley’s phone—which was 92% charged, according to the screen whenever she turned on the screen, the only thing that changed except whatever messages ‘clownmug69’ was sending Dudley on something called _A.I.M Call and Text—_ but she didn’t know how to unlock it. What Hari _did_ know how to unlock was Uncle Vernon’s debit card, as Dudley had written the PIN on a scrap of paper inside the phone wallet. Hari took as much money out as she could in preparation, which was nearly three hundred pounds or—as the ATM put it—four hundred and twenty US dollars, not including the conversion fee.

‘Not bad,’ she mumbled to herself, before stuffing most of it in her bra. A guy grinned at her and gave her thumbs up, to which Hari flipped him the bird, running off.

 _It’s a good thing it’s summer,_ Hari thought as she made her way to the nearest bus station, asking for directions occasionally and finding her way there within an hour of originally leaving the hospital. The weather was mild, sunny if anything. In the meantime, Hari had come up with a plan and that plan was to find the American Ministry of Magic. Hari could remember Hermione telling her a little bit about it last year, how it was based in New York. If New York was as big as London, then Hari would have some trouble finding it—so, she’d have to make some trouble. With magic. Without a wand.

Hari’s life sucked.

In the bus station, she discovered that it would take two bus trips to get to Manhattan, the first part of New York Hari could think of when she asked. The bus station manager had given her a sceptical look, but let her use two crisp ten dollar notes to buy a NJ Transit coach ticket to Atlantic City, then a Greyhound USA transfer ticket from there to Manhattan. A sort of relief overtook Hari when she finally boarded, a small part of her hoping the American Ministry would be kind.

The ride itself was fine, the news on the TV above the bus-driver even more interesting than the view. Some American team of fighters had recently caused a big explosion in a foreign country, which Hari soaked up in bemusement, asking her neighbour across the aisle who they were to get such attention. She’d have thought special teams like that would be secret.

The old man looked at her like she was telling a pretty stupid joke. ‘The Avengers?’ he asked, pointing at the crackling screen. ‘They saved the world, kid. Aliens invaded New York and they fought it off. Killer robots in Europe, they stopped it…are you dumb or sheltered?’

‘Sheltered,’ said Hari, gesturing to her bandaged face and arms and only feeling a little guilty as she lied by omission. The Dursley’s only ever neglected her and locked her in a cupboard—they never _actually_ hurt her. ‘Only just escaped. No TV or news like this, where I lived.’

The stranger stared. Hari stared right back.

Because seriously—aliens?

After a short stand-off, the stranger offered his hand. ‘Henry.’

‘Hari,’ Hari returned, thinking it funny that she’d ran into two people with name’s like her own in as many days. ‘Can you tell me about them?’

‘Sure,’ said Henry, pointing to the TV where a picture of Tony Stark was currently posted. Even _Hari_ knew who Tony Stark was. ‘That’s Tony Stark, the Iron Man. He’s been flying around in a red and gold suit he built himself, back when he was kidnapped by Iraqi terrorists. He’s the leader, if you ask me, but others will say Captain America.’

‘Who?’ Hari raised an eyebrow at the patriotic name.

Henry chuckled. ‘And here’s me thinking even a limey like you would know him. Was a big World War Two hero, science experiment on steroids, basically. One of the strongest men alive. A soldier, called Steve Rogers, or,’ he nodded, ‘Captain America.’

‘Alright,’ said Hari, getting into it now. ‘Iron Man and Captain America.’

‘Then there’s three normies, like us, except I think one’s an assassin?’ Henry wrinkled his nose, scratching his hairline. ‘She’s got red hair, had something to do with a big internet leak or something. Called the Black Widow. That’s about all I know ‘bout her. The other normie is a Robin Hood-type guy, called Hawkeye. Now, _he’s_ a countryman,’ Henry nodded almost sagely, informing her, ‘He’s named after Iowa.’

Hari didn’t know how to reply to that. She wanted to ask him what Iowa was.

‘Then you’ve got Falcon, who has mechanical wings, Thor, an alien god with a magic hammer that he can fly with,’ said Henry, finishing, ‘and the Incredible Hulk! The Hulk’s a berserker, if anything. Big, green and nasty. Turns back into a normal man when he’s done, some scientist—he did it to himself, they say.’

Hari’s eyebrows rose higher with every word. ‘The Hulk is a _troll?’_ Hari blurted out, ‘Like, a were-wolf. But…a were-troll? Can he control it?’

Henry shrugged.

‘…woah,’ said Hari, leaning back in her seat, looking back at the TV again. Red flashed on screen as a man went flying through the air, exploding in a way that took out half the nearby windows. The footage changed, focusing on a young woman with red eyes. In an instant, Hari was transfixed.

_Was that magic?_

‘Who’s that?’ she asks Henry, who made an uneasy noise as their bus trundled on, leaving a motorway.

‘That’s the Scarlet Witch. She’s got powers she seemingly don’t know how to use,’ said Henry, surprising Hari. Multiple clips of her powers played as the quiet news reporter recapped a ‘Sokovia Crisis’, telling all Hari needed to know. She watched as a city floated in mid-air and wondered, in the privacy of her mind, why the magical world still hid. Why did they not help? Surely there were Sokovian wizards…

_…unless…_

Hari’s plan changed in an instant, eyes still locked on the TV. She asked Henry, ‘But she’s in America, now? Where do the Avengers live?’

‘Oh, they have this place up in Upstate New York. Real pretty—there was this tour last year, showing all their training and stuff. Big PR nonsense, but hell, if it weren’t pretty.’

‘What does Upstate mean?’

Henry hummed, then took out his phone. He spent the next half hour leant between the aisle, teaching Hari about the tri-state area and New York in general, naming the many boroughs and landmarks she’d need to keep an eye out for, to visit.

‘It’s a great city,’ he said as they approached their final terminal. He stood with a light cough, revealing himself to be nearly as short as Hari, pulling black sunglasses out of his suit jacket and tucking them on with a grin. ‘See ya, kid.’

‘Bye, Henry. See you round,’ Hari replied, genuinely sad to see him go. They departed the bus together and Hari helped him with his suitcase, before watching him walk off. It was only when he disappeared into the crowd that she noticed the alert men and women waiting throughout the station. One of them caught her eyes and Hari held their gaze, only moving when she finally caught sight of the wand they had tucked up their sleeve.

_Time to run._

No jets of lights flashed behind her as she started into the mob of people, getting instantly overwhelmed by the flood of people. Even late at night, New York was busier than anything Hari had ever seen in her life and the general flow forced her to move, lest she be knocked over. Hari made it two blocks before a hand curled over her shoulder.

‘Miss Potter-’

Hari whipped her elbow around, hitting them right in the gut. As they doubled over, in a stroke of genius, Hari grabbed their wand. A spark passed over her as she took it, but then a faint warmth settled. She’d won it fairly and while the wand itself felt fickle, Hari didn’t think it would be returning to its previous owner so quickly.

Running again, Hari controlled her breathing as best she could, remembering all those years Dudley chased her around Little Whinging, her heart clenching at the memory of him. His death would lay on her conscience just like Sirius’. She could have gotten him out, but she didn’t, she _couldn’t._ Hari gripped her stolen wand ever-tighter.

Attempting to turn the corner, Hari nearly barrelled over a couple of businessmen, but kept running, even as one spilt a whole coffee over his shirt and sent her awry, right into a small grocery store.

Immediately, the quiet of the shop made her hold her breath, not wanting to be caught out by any panting. She calmly walked past the shelves, picking up a green basket. Picking random fruits off a display, Hari kept her eye on the door, not noticing anyone suspicious enter behind her—but she couldn’t be sure someone wouldn’t check anyway.

Spying a kids backpack display at the end of the aisle, Hari got a bit choosier with her basket, making the split-second decision to make the most of her bit of peace. She methodically went through the shop, picking apples, oranges and pears from the fruit aisle, carrots, tomatoes and green snap peas from the veg. Out of the kids’ backpacks, she fell prey to weakness, choosing the dark crimson backpack that reminded her of Gryffindor Tower instead of the plain grey one. In tins, she chose three cheap brands of soup that didn’t look completely unhealthy and avoided the cold and frozen sections completely. One loaf of bread and a large jar of peanut butter later, Hari arrived at the till, quiet as the cashier put everything through without so much as a glance. The bill put her nearly forty dollars down, but Hari didn’t flinch.

‘…nice backpack,’ the cashier added, before gesturing to a keyring frame. ‘Choose one. On the house.’

‘Thanks.’ Hari peered at them, then picked out a gold engraving of the Statue of Liberty, attaching it to one of the inner zips rather than outside. She didn’t want to be recognised. The cashier didn’t even flinch at the action, reading their magazine as Hari piled her new food supply into the bag.

‘Hey,’ she asked at last minute, waiting until they looked up, ‘How much longer do the buses run going Upstate?’

‘Upstate?’ they repeated, before replying, ‘Depends on the company. Probably until midnight though, if you’re talking about buses from the station.’

‘Cool.’ Hari gave them a nod and got a little wave of her own before leaving again, walking back the way she came. When the bus station came into view, Hari stood against a nearby wall for a minute, watching for the watchers. Only one caught her eye, but still, Hari wasn’t sure. Hari had always been good at noticing the unusual—it came with the territory, in Privet Drive. Her whole famous alternate identity didn’t help matters, in the Wizarding World. There was always someone watching there whenever she went out in public, even in Hogwarts.

 _Always in Hogwarts,_ Hari amended, remembering the portraits. She left the wall, aiming for another nearby store, where she replaced her hoodie with a darker, waterproof jacket, bringing her overall bank down to two hundred dollars. Hari was bleeding money, tonight.

Fortune sided with Hari again when she bought her ticket Upstate. She didn’t even have to talk to someone, just use one of the machines inside the station, then join the quickly diminishing line to get on the right bus.

 _I’ll find the Scarlet Witch,_ Hari thought to herself as she settled in for the ride. _She’ll protect me, until Dumbledore comes to get me. I won’t go with anyone else._

And so, Hari closed her eyes and took a nap, waiting for her stop.


End file.
